


The Unlikely Abhorsen

by NightsMistress



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: family tensions, post-Clariel: The Lost Abhorsen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becoming the Abhorsen was the easy part. Having his own family accept him? That was much harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unlikely Abhorsen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neshnyt_Jackalsson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neshnyt_Jackalsson/gifts).



> My thanks to my beta, Isis.

It was time to return to the Abhorsens.

If Belatiel was being honest with himself, it was past time. Tathiel had dealt with the consequences of the attempted coup, and now the Abhorsen’s presence should be again felt in the Kingdom. There was much in the Abhorsen’s House that Bel had not yet read, and he wanted to go home and learn what it meant to be the Abhorsen in truth. He was sure that in the generations since the Abhorsen stopped being an active presence in the Kingdom there would be areas overrun with the Dead and with Free Magic, and that it would be up to him to sort that out.

And besides, he had received a message-hawk from Hillfair earlier that week requesting that he return from Belisaere. For what, Belatiel didn’t know, but he didn’t think the consequences he’d have to face, as a distant cousin becoming the Abhorsen, would improve by delaying his arrival.

Belisaere was ordinarily two days flight from Hillfair, though a pilot familiar with the route and who was minded to could complete it in one day, so long as their Paperwing was not very heavy and the pilot was a talented and experienced Charter Mage. Belatiel was not an experienced Charter Mage, but his Paperwing would be lightly loaded, and he was no longer pained by an arrow wound whenever he breathed. It was too late to start now, as it was mid-afternoon, but if he set off at dawn tomorrow and had a good wind behind him, Bel thought he could make it in a day, so long as he left at dawn and flew until dusk.

Departing at dawn was no easy feat. Bel had loaded most of his possessions onto the Abhorsen’s Paperwing the night before, which meant that the next morning required him only to put on his bells and strap Cleave to his waist. Mogget, apparently determined to be of little use as possible, slept through Bel’s bleary actions of buckling his sword belt, pulling on boots, and strapping on his bandolier. By the time Bel had finished preparing to leave, Mogget had opened one green eye.

“Good. You’ve kept your hands free to carry me,” Mogget said before closing his eye once more.

It was hard to believe that a few weeks earlier Mogget had orchestrated the death of the King, the fall of Clariel, and had almost slipped the leash of the Abhorsens. Right now, he looked like nothing more than a small white cat, albeit one that somehow managed to radiate smugness even while asleep. Belatiel could see why the previous Abhorsens had underestimated him. He sighed and picked Mogget up. If he had thought about this, he might have put Mogget into his backpack, but unfortunately he had packed that the previous night. Instead he would have to carry Mogget, as leaving him behind was not an option. Tathiel would not appreciate the gift of a Free Magic creature, even one bound to servitude as Mogget was.

He nodded his greetings to the guards standing at the checkpoints from the Abhorsen’s apartments to the Paperwing field. The faces were new to him, which hurt when he thought about it. He had not known many of the guards’ names, but he could recognise a number by face. His second act as Abhorsen had been to send their spirits on beyond the Ninth Gate, shivering all the while. A great number of guards and Guildsmen had died five weeks ago.

It hurt to know that he wouldn’t see Gully again.

As he exited the castle into the field where the Paperwings were kept, he could see the clear, cool light of a Charter light glowing near his family’s Paperwing. It took him by surprise, as it was terribly early for anyone to be up who wasn’t a member of the Royal Guard, and none of them would be loitering around his Paperwing. At least, he didn’t think so. He hoped not, in any event. He dipped into the Charter and drew the marks for light, giving himself his own little ghost light to see by.

“Hello?” he called.

“Hello!” called back a familiar voice. “Is that you, Bel?”

“It is!” he said cheerfully, and picked up his pace. “Hello, Denima!”

Waiting by the Abhorsen’s Paperwing was a tall woman with dark hair half-covered by a veil and dressed in the Vinters’ colours of purple and green. Her blue-green eyes glinted in the Charter light that glowed over her shoulder, and her Charter Mark was clearly visible. In the light cast by Denima’s magic, Bel was able to see the beautiful woman that she would grow into being in a few years. She smiled brightly and waved in greeting, and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected to be seen off by Denima, especially given that she lived in Belisaere and so would have had to walk to the castle in the dark.

“This is a surprise!” Bel said cheerfully as he put Mogget inside the Paperwing. He kept his bells and Cleave to hand. Just in case. He couldn’t be too careful when it came to Mogget. “I didn’t expect to see you here, it’s awfully early for anyone to be up. I know I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to. I did send my letter to you rather late.”

“I wanted to see you off,” said Denima. She smiled crookedly. “You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

“No,” Bel said. “Or at least I don’t think so. I’m sure they’d tell me if I were. Charter knows rumours travel quickly among the Abhorsen.”

“Yes, you said it was your family,” Denima said. “What will they do, do you think?”

“Well, they can’t exile me to Belisaere _again_ ,” Bel began. “It’s practically unheard of for the Abhorsen to be chosen outside of the main line, and that’s not even taking into account the fact that there already was someone who everyone thought was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. I dare say that at first nothing will happen at all, if only because no one will know what to do with me. I was hoping to get a few weeks to settle into the Abhorsen’s House before someone decided to try to oust me from the role so that it can go back to the main line.”

“Is that how it works?” Denima asked. “That the Abhorsens always come from the main line, that is.”

“For as long as I could find out,” said Bel. “That’s why they’re the main line, after all! Well, there’s nothing for it. I’ll just have to go back and find out what they want with me.”

“I wish you could come with me instead,” Denima said. “I’m sure my parents would love you. But you have an important job to do.” She smiled. “Goodbye, Belatiel. Take care and look after yourself. You’ve told me enough about your family that I worry about you.”

“I can’t say I’m not apprehensive,” Bel confessed. “I did leave in the chaos after my great-uncle died, after all, and I think they noticed that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Denima said. She studied him for a moment, her expression grave, before she kissed him gently on the cheek.

Bel could feel himself blushing.

“Take care,” she repeated, stepping away from the Paperwing. “I’ll write to you to let you know how my Charter magic studies are coming along.”

“I look forward to hearing about them,” he said warmly, and meant it. Denima’s family were unfashionable in that they had baptised their daughter in the Charter and indulged her curiosity in Charter Magic. Bel had suggested to her that she talk to Kargrin about learning Charter Magic, and she had come along in leaps and bounds since then. “If I find any good books about learning Charter Magic, I’ll send you the titles.”

“You too,” she said. “Oh! Do I send letters to Hillfair or to the Abhorsen’s House? Your letter said Hillfair, but …”

“Abhorsen’s House might be better,” Bel said. “Unless you want everyone to read them.”

“No,” Denima said. It was her turn to blush. “I don’t think I do.” She glanced away to look at the sky. Fingers of light were reaching across the sky, turning it from black to purple in preparation for sunrise. “You should be off if you’re to make it to Hillfair by this afternoon.”

“I should,” Bel agreed. He unstrapped the sword and bells and laid them on the floor of the Paperwing, before boarding it. “Take care yourself,” he added. “I’ll come to see you once everything is sorted out with my family.”

He pursed his lips and whistled up a wind.

The flight was uneventful, if long, and it was very late afternoon when the sprawling nest of buildings of Hillfair came into view. Twenty buildings of stone and wood spanned the distance from the Ratterlin to the ridge behind it, some resting on terraces cut into the rocky hills, and none of it girded by a stout stone wall to keep the Dead out. If it were not for the fact that Bel knew that Hillfair was the home of the Abhorsens for three generations and had lived there himself, he would have scarcely believed it. Hillfair seemed terribly indefensible.

The only real form of protection his family had against the Dead was Belatiel himself. It was a disquieting thought.

He licked his dry lips and whistled to nudge the Paperwing to his true destination: the Abhorsen’s House three leagues to the south. Flying near Hillfair added some time to his journey, but Bel had wanted to see Hillfair before he landed, to see if it made him feel like he was coming home. Truthfully, it didn’t. Bel suspected that he had stopped considering Hillfair home a long time ago. All Hillfair had to offer him now was a confrontation with his family, which he hoped to postpone as long as possible.

Instead, he felt sad and somewhat apprehensive, a feeling that grew as the infinitely more defensible Abhorsen’s House became visible. Nestled on an island surrounded by the swift waters of the Ratterlin just before they fell twelve hundred feet onto the lowlands below, the Abhorsen’s House was where generations of Abhorsens had lived. Bel had started his tenure as the latest Abhorsen by directing the sendings to extinguish a fire lit during Clariel and Mogget’s escape, and from the sky he could see the dark scar from where the flames had burned the peach trees. It had been five weeks, and while there was likely new growth now, it was not visible from the air.

He jumped as a heavy weight landed on the top of his shoulder, sharp claws digging through the key-dusted surcoat he was wearing. “Ow!” he protested. “Mogget, don’t do that, you’ll have us fall out of the Paperwing.” He could feel the weight on his shoulder shift, presumably in response to Mogget taking in their surroundings. He had been asleep for most of the flight, for which Bel was truly grateful. Mogget was useful, but in much the same way a sword with no hilt was, and about as dangerous to the wielder.

“Not going home?” Mogget asked.

“This is home,” Bel said. “This is where the Abhorsen _should_ live.”

“Its distance to your over-abundance of relatives is of course not a factor,” said Mogget archly.

“Well — no, that’s not really it,” Bel protested. “Though yes, there are a lot of them, but the real reasons are that this is the Abhorsen’s House, this is where everything is kept that an Abhorsen needs, and as I am the Abhorsen this is where I should live. Also I don’t think I have anywhere else _to_ live. When I was living at Hillfair I shared a room with three of my cousins, and I think that when I went away to Belisaere my bed was given to someone else.”

He looked back at the peach orchard. Something about it troubled him; at first he had thought that it had been Clariel who had set the fire, but then he remembered that Clariel had loved the forest more than she loved people. She had grown up around the Great Forest, and so she would have known the dangers of forest fires. While she had wanted to be free, he doubted that she would have set the fire. That left only …

“Why did you light the fire?” Bel asked. “I don’t think Clariel would have wanted that.”

“You know that, do you?” Mogget jumped onto Bel’s drawn up knees, which was a marginally more tolerable place for him to be. It made Bel’s nose tickle on the verge of a sneeze, but that was better than the two of them falling to their death.

“I know that she loved the forest,” Bel said. “She would never have lit a fire. She knew how dangerous they can be.” Mogget’s reply was to start cleaning himself with his tongue. “Mogget,” Bel said sternly. “Why did you light the fire?”

“We needed a distraction,” Mogget said, visibly sulking. “The sendings are stupid, and your family impatient. They would have focused on the fire because they could see it. Even Tyriel would have leapt into action had he known we had gone under the waterfall.” He added, with grudging appreciation, “You were unexpected. I thought I had a few years before you became the Abhorsen.”

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Bel said. “All of this could have been averted if I’d just _known_ that only the Abhorsen and the Abhorsen-in-Waiting could read the Book of the Dead.”

“Why would I?” Mogget said. “I want to be free.”

There was nothing that Bel could say to that. Instead, he focused on the descent, and on whistling the tune that would allow the Paperwing to drop lower in the sky and finally land safely on the space on the island for it. It was easier this time than the last two times, the notes coming true and clear from his pursed lips as he blew, and the Paperwing descended smoothly to land on the ground.

By the time that Bel had finished collecting his possessions, the Paperwing was inundated with sendings. They couldn’t talk, but they had notes written in the prickly handwriting that Bel recognised as Yannael’s, the painfully precise letters of their account-keeper Vinithiel, the scrawl of the housekeeper Elseniel … all people who Bel supposed deserved an answer immediately. But he was tired, and he was sure that there were Dead that required the Abhorsen’s immediate attention.

“Tell them…” he said to the sendings, and stopped. He wasn’t quite sure what to tell his family. This was an important moment, the moment when the first _real_ Abhorsen for three generations reminded their family of the responsibilities of their Blood. Perhaps had he had read the journals of the previous Abhorsens from the times when the Abhorsens did their duty, he would have known what to say. Instead, he said “Tell them the Abhorsen is home, and will see them when he can, but the Kingdom’s needs have to come first.”

Mogget muttered something that sounded like ‘good luck with that’. Bel pointedly ignored him. The sendings bobbed in agreement and disappeared back into the house, presumably to communicate with the sendings at Hillfair through means that at the moment were beyond Bel. He didn’t know enough about the Charter Magic to understand how the sendings worked. He planned to change that.

He planned to change _everything_.

* * *

 

Belatiel’s reformative attitude had apparently not won him many friends in the family. Earning the ire of his great-uncle was, in Bel’s experience, rather easy to do, given that almost everyone had done it at one point or another. He had been an irascible man, and that impatient nature had been passed down to all of his descendants. A week would rarely go by without Bel receiving a message from one person or another requesting that he do something, in a way that made it very clear that it was not a request at all.

What baffled Bel was why they were involving him. None of the requests had anything to do with the Dead or Free Magic, which would at least make sense, and would indicate a growing acceptance that the Abhorsen’s role was to keep the Dead down.

Instead they were requests for room allocation changes, reviews of invoices, and budgets for food, and all of them were marked urgent. He’d tried to read them, but it had been beyond him what he was meant to do with them. They built up in his study, overflowing from the desk onto the floor, and every time Bel went in there to research some strange Free Magic creature sighting, a sending would tug on his sleeve and try to bring him over to review them.

Finally, he told the sendings to refuse to accept any more messages, and tell his family to sort it out amongst themselves or bring it up to Yannael. _That,_ he thought, _will be the end of it._

His hopes were dashed when he opened the door to reveal Yannael and Rinnael,another cousin of his, neither of whom looked very happy to meet him. Belatiel previously had little to do with Rinnael, as she was part of his great-uncle’s lead hunting group. She looked uncharacteristically nervous, which was a surprise to Bel. He knew the reputation the Abhorsen’s House had amongst the Abhorsen family, but in his experience there was very little to be frightened of. Yannael was as stern-faced as she ever was, though the tension of her jaw suggested that she was less happy with him than usual.

“Good uh, morning!” said Bel. He squinted overhead. “Or at least I think it’s morning — I lost track of time. Is something the matter?”

“Abhorsen,” said Yannael. It was unclear whether it was a greeting or not. It was always hard to tell with Yannael.

“Yes?” said Bel brightly. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, now that you mention it,” said Rinnael, “It’s all the things you’re not doing. The ones that you told the sendings to direct to Yan. They have to go to the head of the family.”

Bel frowned, and wondered if Rinnael was playing a joke on him. If she was, it wasn’t a very good one as it didn’t make any sense. Was she trying to trick him? If so, into what and why? “I don’t understand,” he said. “Isn’t that Yan?”

“No,” Yannael ground out. “It’s you.”

Belatiel blinked. “Er … what?” he managed.

“The Abhorsen always comes from the main line,” said Rinnael. She smiled a little uncertainly. “That means that your branch of the family is the main line now.”

At his feet, Mogget laughed. “You didn’t know?” Both Yannael and Rinnael took a step backward in surprise.

“What?” Bel said again, hoping that this time it would make sense. “Are you telling me that in addition to being the Abhorsen I’m now the head of the family?”

“You really didn’t know?” Rinnael said. “Truly?”

“No!” Bel said. “I hadn’t really thought about it at all. Should I have?”

“Who else would it be?” Yannael said. There was a flicker of emotion behind the stony facade, one that Bel was hard-pressed to recognise. Bel had never been good at reading her expressions. Perhaps if he had been, he would have stayed in Hillfair and not been exiled to Belisaere. Which now didn’t sound half as appealing as it might have before.

“Right,” Bel said awkwardly. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“And we were wondering when you would move into Hillfair,” Rinnael added.

“Oh, I’m not,” Bel said. “I’m pretty sure that Else gave my bed to someone else when Great-Uncle sent me away to Belisaere.”

“That’s not a problem!” Rinnael said anxiously. “The Abhorsen’s immediate family always has private rooms in Hillfair.”

Bel thought that he understood now why Yannael was looking at him with such repressed frustration. “Don’t move anyone out,” he said hastily. “Besides, you know that I don’t have any family of my own. It’d be silly to keep all those rooms empty just because of tradition.”

“Well, you might in the future,” Rinnael said. “Though, you’re right about you being the only person in your immediate family.”

“Did you go looking?” said Bel in bemusement. After his parents had died he had grown up raised by the Abhorsen family as a whole, with everyone acting as something akin to a guardian. Bel hadn’t enjoyed the experience much, as it felt like a great many eyes spying on him for wrongdoing, and few to complain to about how unfair life could be. “I don’t know why you’d bother. If there were any, someone would have found them years ago.”

Rinnael winced. “I suppose so. We can arrange for the books of account to be brought to you, if you’d prefer.” She sounded very reluctant to do that.

“It’s fine,” said Bel quickly. “I can come up there later, once I sort out what’s going on near Gardil.” He tilted his head and looked at Yannael. “You wouldn’t by any chance know what kind of Free Magic creature smells like burning mouldy leaves, would you?”

“No,” Yannael said, her face stony and impassive without any flicker of underlying emotion underneath, and stalked off. Rinnael shrugged and followed her.

Bel shook his head in dismay as he watched them leave. “That didn’t go well,” he said mournfully. “What did I say wrong?”

Mogget’s laughter was of little guidance.

* * *

 

 _I felt like such a fool,_ he wrote to Denima later. _Of course the Abhorsen is the head of the family, who else could it be? No wonder they were so unhappy that I had become the Abhorsen! And that I wasn’t doing all the things that I should be doing. I had wondered why Cousin Yan always looked so angry when she saw me, and now I know. I’ll have to remember to do better next time. How are your studies going? Isn’t Magister Kargrin wonderful? I wish I could have stayed and learned more from him, there’s so much about the Charter I don’t know!_

He was heartened when a week later, Denima wrote back. She had written on good linen paper, which Bel knew must have been taken from her parents’ study, and her bold handwriting covered the page.

 _Don’t be too unkind to yourself,_ she had written after the usual salutations, written in perfect form that even Master Dyrell couldn’t have faulted. _The fault doesn’t lie with you for not knowing. What matters is what you do now. My studies are wonderful, and Magister Kargrin is a marvellous teacher. Whenever he explains things, it all becomes clear! I’ll never be a Charter Mage, not truly, but I think I can learn enough to protect myself. Mother and father approve, which is a surprise. I suppose they can see that Charter Magic will be very useful in my future work._

Bel wasn’t sure how Charter Magic would help Denima create wines, but he didn’t think it would get in the way either. Tathiel’s return hadn’t created a resurgence of Charter Magic, so it was still considered terribly unfashionable. He was glad that Denima’s parents didn’t hold much stock in that way of thinking; the Charter was eminently useful, and it would be a shame if Denima didn’t learn how to use it. He read the letter again, savouring the words.

“It won’t talk back,” Mogget said archly as Bel read the letter for the fourth time.

“Shut up, Mogget,” Bel said, but not unkindly. Even Mogget couldn’t dampen his good mood. It had been so long since he had spoken with someone who sounded interested — truly interested — in what he was doing as the Abhorsen, and who was interested in talking to him. Once, in desperation, he’d even tried talking to the sendings for hope of conversation. Unsurprisingly, they were truly terrible conversationalists, and Mogget had so far not let him live it down.

* * *

 

The Abhorsen family was, at its heart, hierarchical and indeed it had to be. There were six hundred of them, with more on the way or so Belatiel was given to understand, which was larger than most towns that littered the countryside this far from Belisaere. The only larger group of people outside of Belisaere that Bel could think of was the Glacier which, coincidentally, was also another clan of a great bloodline.

Gullaine had told Bel that the Clayr all worked together in the Nine-Day Watch, to focus their Sight using the strength of many. Gullaine had only rarely been called up, as her Sight was not strong, and had refused to tell Bel anything of what happened when the Clayr focused their will to See what they would. At the time, the idea of a whole Bloodline focusing their collective energies towards one goal had captured Bel’s imagination.

In the days since Gully’s death, there had been many things that Bel had wished he had asked her. Now, he wished he had asked her how the Clayr managed themselves.

Since being told that he was the head of the family, Bel had done his best to juggle the responsibilities of the Abhorsen and what seemed to be the role as headman for a rather large town: slotting in research in between while approving expenses, flying while reviewing requests for new hunting horses and hounds while flying his Paperwing to a spot where one of the Greater Dead had been sighted, and sleeping increasingly little.

He didn’t think he was doing a very good job of being either the Abhorsen or the head of the family.

His last journey had ended poorly, and he had arrived at Hillfair late that afternoon bruised, dirty, and blood-stained, favouring his right arm. There had been more Free Magic creatures at Gardil than had been reported, four creatures half again as tall as Bel with wickedly sharp silver claws, and they had gone into a frenzy when his blood was spilled from a lucky strike. Two he had managed to dispatch quickly with Cleave and the bells, though not without sustaining long cuts that stung as he embraced the Charter. One, he’d had to parry its claws before it succumbed, and he’d lost track of the fourth only to relocate it as it tried to tear his head from his shoulders. Fortunately, he was just a little faster than it was.

After that, he’d wanted to put up his sword, nurse his wounds and sleep.

Unfortunately, he still had not reviewed the books of account and that had to be done sooner rather than later. He remembered vaguely from his classes at Mistress Ader’s school that running a business meant constantly being on top of your finances, and he supposed that being responsible for a family as large as the Abhorsens was pretty much like running a business. If he was to be the head of the family, then he would do the best job that he could do, and he knew enough about finances to be able to review books.

He walked through the great hall where the other members of his family were, and while he could hear whispers about him, he was given a wide berth. In most circumstances, it might have been because he was filthy and limping, but in Hillfair it wasn’t uncommon to return from a hunt wounded. Bel supposed that in his case, it was something else. Since his return from Belisaere nobody in the whole family spoke to him unless they absolutely had to. He couldn’t blame them, really; he had in one night upended the entire family structure. The fact that he hadn’t meant to, that all he had meant to do was put to rights what Clariel had done, that he had never even hoped to be the Abhorsen — none of this mattered.

He sighed and forced himself to walk up the six flights of stairs.

After the stairs was the walk along the verandah. Bel sank down into the chair at the desk and closed his eyes. The room was dark enough that he could fall asleep if he let himself, even with the rustle of feathers from the message-hawks in the mews.

“That could have gone better,” he said to himself. He opened his eyes at a knock at the door to the study. “Come in!” he called.

The door opened to Vinithiel. A tall, stocky man with the dark hair of the Abhorsens and the blue-green eyes of his mother, he was dressed in patched brown breeches and a faded surcoat that once might have been blue. He was carrying a ledger under one arm, and he looked at Belatiel in disapproval.

Bel straightened in the chair. “Thanks for bringing the ledger.”

“You’ve cut it fine, Abhorsen,” said Vinithiel, sour as always, as he placed the leather-bound book on the desk in front of Bel. “Funds need to be released tomorrow to pay for our food.”

“Well, it’s only the evening,” Bel said. “I’m sure there’s plenty of time to review them.”

“If you say so,” said Vinithiel, his voice making it very clear that he did not agree at all. “I’m sure you had important tasks to take care of.”

“There were some Free Magic creatures around Gardil,” Bel explained. “I meant to finish sooner, but there were more there than I had anticipated.”

Vinithiel looked unimpressed by this explanation. “I’ll return in the morning.”

Sensing that he had been dismissed, Bel nodded and opened the ledger. It looked like it had been reviewed before Tyriel had died, so he only had to review the last few months. He began to hold tentative hope that he might be done before midnight, and that once he had reviewed one month it would become easier to do the rest.

His enthusiasm didn’t last. As the night wore on, the longer he stared at the rows of figures, the less sense they made to him. Money counting had not been his favourite class at Mistress Ader’s academy, and exposure to the Abhorsen’s family’s book of accounts had not endeared it to him any further.

“I must find a way to do this,” he muttered to himself, rubbing at his forehead and closing his aching eyes.

There was a tugging on his sleeve. Bel groaned. The tugging intensified and Bel opened his eyes, raising his head from the table. He wondered when he had rested his head on his arms to begin with. The candle on the table had burned halfway down and Bel groaned at the thought of lost time.

A sending continued to tug at his sleeve, a sealed envelope in its other hand. He accepted the letter, surprised that the sending had known to bring it to Hillfair and not the Abhorsen’s House, and then smiled as he saw the handwriting on the envelope.

After the usual salutations, Denima had a great deal to say about Bel’s previous letter. He had thought that his mentions of his concerns about managing both of his roles had been appropriately light-hearted so as to not worry her. She knew him better than that, it seemed, and she had seen to the heart of the matter.

 _I don’t know why they’d expect you to be personally responsible for everything,_ Denima had written, her annoyance clear in the way that the underline under ‘personally’ bisected the ‘lly’. _It’s not possible. Bel, you’re going to have to delegate responsibilities. And don’t take any nonsense from your family when they say that the old Abhorsen didn’t do it this way! They’re taking advantage of you and your good nature. Of course your great-uncle didn’t do it your way, he didn’t do half the things you’re doing._

She had added, in much neater handwriting that suggested that she had come back to it later, _My parents would love to see you when you’re next in Belisaere, but we understand that you have to get your family in order first. They’re very interested in meeting this young man I keep sneaking out to write to in the middle of the night._

Bel hadn’t realised that she had done that, though in retrospect he supposed she would have had to. Since Tathiel’s return, there had been a great amount of work for the guilds to do, as a number of guild members across various guilds had been involved in the attempted coup and there was more pressure for each guild to justify its existence. Denima’s family had steered well clear of the coup, to Bel’s profound relief, but that meant that they had to assume the responsibilities from the guild members who had been involved. Denima had mentioned it from time to time in her letters, but he hadn’t realised what that would mean in terms of writing letters.

He felt less foolish for keeping all the letters he received from her safe inside a box to read regularly.

The letter went on to talk about her classes with Kargrin, and how she had learned several new marks in the last few days, which she then drew onto the parchment. Four Bel knew already, but three were new to him and he committed those to memory. _A kiss for good luck,_ she wrote at last as a conclusion.

At the bottom of the letter was a smudge of red paste. It took Bel a moment to recognise what the paste was, and then when he did, he grinned. It had been months since he had been forced to wear the paint that was expected in Belisaere, and so had forgotten the lip paint that people wore in the name of fashion. She had actually kissed the paper.

“Abhorsens don’t grin like fools at letters,” Mogget said. Where he had come from, Bel had no idea, and had learned not to question these things. “Who is it from?”

“It’s from Denima.”

“Ah, your lady love,” said Mogget.

Bel remembered why he had resolved never to tell Mogget anything. Apparently he wasn’t very good at keeping that resolution.

“She’s right though,” he said aloud. “I _should_ be delegating these things.”

“Of course you should,” said Mogget. “Kariniel did, and all the Abhorsens before.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

Mogget ignored Bel, cleaning his white fur with a small pink tongue. Bel had learned over the last few months that there were multiple meanings to Mogget’s fur cleaning, some involving subtle interpretation. This one … really didn’t. Mogget was very good at being condescending without saying anything at all. Bel wasn’t sure if this was a trait unique to Mogget or an innate ability of cats.

He suspected it was a combination of both.

He looked at the book of account again. It looked like Vinithiel had been responsible for the books for some time, and his great-uncle had trusted him for a decade. If he was embezzling money from his own family, surely someone would have noticed by now. He signed the ledger, then took a sheet of linen paper from his great-uncle’s — though now he supposed it was his now — desk. He wrote a note to Vinithiel, saying that he was authorised to complete the books on Belatiel’s behalf, and that he would review them at the end of each year.

Once a year would be more manageable.

“I will see you soon,” he promised Denima’s letter, ignoring Mogget’s laughter.

* * *

 

Once he had decided to delegate his responsibilities, Bel set about it with a will.

He had told everyone to continue on as they had been before, and for the most part that seemed to be going well. People still sought him out for approvals on a regular basis, which drove him to distraction, but it was not with the same frequency as before. It seemed that for routine family matters, people were starting to accept that things would carry on as they had before, without the need for Belatiel to supervise everything. Bel had privately suspected that his great-uncle had been less involved in the day-to-day running of the family’s affairs than had been implied, and the ease that everyone seemed to settle back into their usual responsibilities bore that out.

Of course, that only lasted while Belatiel was in and around Hillfair and the Abhorsen’s House. When he went away to put the Dead down the responsibilities piled up until his return. At first he had thought that it was being done deliberately. However, as the months progressed, it seemed that this was not an entirely fair assessment. Yes, some of it was due to the malicious desire to inconvenience him, even now, but it seemed that most of the requests sprang simply from the need for _someone_ to approve things.

After some thought, he decided that the best way to go about it would be to appoint someone who would be responsible for the running of the family financial affairs, someone to whom everyone else would report for approval of expenditures and allowances. This would free Belatiel up for the things that truly required the Abhorsen’s attention.

Once he had made that decision, the answer of whom to appoint in that role was easy. There was only one person who it could be. Yannael had been trained by Great-Uncle Tyriel to become the Abhorsen, and until recently she had been assumed to be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. If anyone was going to going to get the others to listen to them, it would be her.

The trick would be convincing her of this. Bel knew that she felt that the job should be hers by right, anyway, but he wouldn’t put it past her to refuse simply because it was _him_ offering it to her. Bel suspected that he would never get onto the right foot with her. He would have liked to have taken the time to craft the perfect appeal to her, but this fortnight’s letter from Denima had come accompanied with letters from Magister Kargrin and Mistress Ader.

Kargrin had mentioned finding a sealed bottle washed ashore at Belisaere that he suspected held a Free Magic creature captive, but that he was unable to identify what it was. He asked if Bel could check the Abhorsen’s library and provide advice if Kargrin described his findings so far, but Bel thought that he could do better. Something about the brief description of the smell of old rotting ice reminded Bel of something he had encountered a few months ago, and he thought it would be helpful to see it in person.

Mistress Ader — Maderael, he supposed, though she had made it clear that he shouldn’t call her that — had written a deceptively simple letter asking about how he was doing in Hillfair now that he had come into his inheritance. At least, Bel _thought_ there was more to it than that. She had been an Abhorsen before him, and there were a great many mysteries about her. It could be a simple letter following up a former student, but Bel thought there was another meaning to it as well. The problem was that he didn’t understand what that meaning _was_ , and so it might also be better to ask her in person.

And finally, Denima, had written a pleasant letter that ended with a hope that she’d see him again soon, and that was the pull that drew him the most. If he could appoint Yannael to look after things while he was away, he could go to Belisaere with a clear conscience.

All in all, the three letters pointed towards him travelling to Belisaere, which meant that he had to talk to Yannael sooner rather than later.

There was also another conversation he had wanted to have with her. Yannael had not made any enquiries into the fate of Clariel, which Belatiel thought was strange as Yannael was Clariel’s last closest relative. He couldn’t tell Yannael everything, but he thought he could tell her about Clariel trying at the end to redeem herself from being the dupe of Free Magic creatures. He probably should have told her sooner, but when he’d first seen her, after, Clariel’s absence was too rare for him to speak about. Then, when he had returned to Hillfair, it seemed that everyone had moved on from Clariel’s life and death, caught up in their own struggles. She had been someone they had known only a few days, and briefly at that.

He thought now that he could tell Yannael what had happened, without giving away that Clariel lived.

He rode to Hillfair on the horse he kept stabled on the shore of the island, and arrived at around midmorning, before the daily hunt. As he rode to the stables, he saw Yannael on her way to her usual horse, which had already been saddled for the day’s ride by one of the grooms.

“Cousin Yannael!” he called out to her. “Do you have a moment?”

The way that Yannael turned to look at him clearly suggested that she clearly did, but wished she didn’t. She didn’t walk away, though, as she was prone to doing when she thought a conversation would be a waste of her time, so Bel took that as a positive sign. He dismounted, and his horse was taken away by a groom to be watered and fed.

“Sorry, this really won’t take long,” said Bel. “It’s two things really, though I suppose I should start with the news first. Do you want to know what happened to Clariel?”

There was a flicker of emotion in Yannael’s eyes, quickly stifled. “No,” she said. “She died under the waterfall.”

In a way that was correct, Bel supposed. That was when Clariel had taken two Free Magic creatures and, he presumed, bound them to her will. That was when her connection with the Charter was sundered, and she became a Free Magic sorcerer. The Charter shielded the Abhorsens from their own innate ability to wield Free Magic, and once that connection was broken it couldn’t be remade.

He could sense that this was going badly but plunged on regardless.

“She did try to save the king,” Bel offered. “In the end, she tried her best.”

“So what?”

“I just thought you should know, being her last living kin,” Bel said.

Yannael looked at him stonily. He felt a pang of sympathy for her; forced into a role she hadn’t wanted, her brother dead and sister exiled, a niece who had betrayed their confidence, and now her position in the family dependent on the cousin she had helped exile to Belisaere. It didn’t help that the Abhorsen kept sticking his foot in it.

“Anyway,” he went on nervously when she said nothing, “Sorry about that. I just thought — it doesn’t matter. Sorry. Uh, anyway, I have to go away to Belisaere for a week. I have a promise to keep. Well a number of them, really, to some people in Belisaere who helped us before, including a distant cousin, and I should be back fairly soon. I know you’ll handle everything as you always do. You can find me with a message-hawk if you need to — you know how to use the special ones for the Abhorsen, right?”

“Yes,” ground out Yannael.

“That’s convenient! I wasn’t sure if — if Great-Uncle Tyriel had had the chance. I had to work out the spells on my own. So, if anything comes up, please message me!”

Yannael looked at him, and then nodded. There was something about the way she held her jaw that was less disapproving of him than usual. Was it satisfaction? He couldn’t imagine Yannael being pleased, but maybe this was as close as she got to it.

Belatiel didn’t think he would ever be friends with Yannael. The Abhorsens were very good at carrying grudges, and Yannael would have nursed hers against him for some time.

Grudging acknowledgement of the course of action he was taking as the Abhorsen would have to do. After all, it looked like she was content to take on the role of running the family in his absence. That was all he could ask for.

That done, all Bel had to take care of was return to the Abhorsen’s House and pack for his trip, which was easily done. He had a great deal of practice at that of late, and was able to throw clothes into a backpack, locate his sword, and strap on his bells quickly enough. He paused at the landing, struggling to remember what he was sure he had forgotten to do.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, and tore back into his study. “I should let her know I’m coming.” He dashed off a quick note and passed it to a sending: _I should be in Belisaere in two days. I look forward to meeting your family._

As he rushed down the stairs again, he almost tripped over Mogget at the bottom of the stairs. He stumbled, before catching himself on the wall, and rolled his eyes. Of course Mogget would be at the most inconvenient place possible. Mogget took the opportunity to jump up onto Bel, and he caught him automatically. “You’re coming?”

“Would you have left me here unattended?” Mogget asked archly.

“Well, no,” Belatiel conceded. “But I expected that I would have to make you come with me.”

“I am bound to serve the Abhorsens,” Mogget said sourly, looking at the Abhorsen’s ring on Bel’s finger. “Besides, this meeting promises to be entertaining.”

“I’m not surprised you’d think so,” Bel said, as he closed the door behind them. “Please try to keep out of trouble, won’t you?”

Mogget didn’t deign to answer, and Bel busied himself with loading the Paperwing with his sword, bells and supplies. Last, he loaded Mogget into the Paperwing.

That done, he turned to look in the direction of Hillfair. “I do hope everything will be all right.” He took a breath. “I’ll just have to trust them for the week. If they can’t handle a week without me, then it’s better I know now than in an emergency. I can’t babysit everyone forever.”

Belatiel then hoisted himself into the Paperwing and whistled. He had promises to keep, and leagues to go before he could keep any of them.


End file.
